


To Have a Home

by primasveraas



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, its light tho, post-Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primasveraas/pseuds/primasveraas
Summary: Kallus and Zeb embark on one of their final missions as agents of the Rebellion.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	To Have a Home

“Last mission,” Zeb declares, sliding into the seat next to Kallus. The other man looks up at him, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

“Not quite,” Kallus frowns. “We still have that business in the Outer Rim Hera wanted us to do.”

“Right,” Zeb says, buckling his seat in preparation for takeoff. Kallus beings the launch sequence, reaching towards the controls. “Close enough,” Zeb shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “We pack up, after this one, anyways.”

“That should be easy,” Kallus says absentmindedly, lifting the landing gear. “All my things are fairly consolidated.”

Zeb snorts. “Tell that to the inside of my cabin.”

_ “Your  _ cabin, is it now? I seem to remember you grabbing my rucksack and telling me that “my space is your space, Alex-””

“Well, I meant you could have a drawer, not sort everything on the ship by color. Including my kriffing underw-”

“Alright, boys, are you ready? You’ve been cleared for takeoff.” Hera’s words cut through their bickering, the comms interrupting Zeb’s lament.

“Ready for takeoff, General,” Kallus says, disregarding Zeb’s snort at the title.

“Make us proud,” Hera says, a smile in her voice. She doesn’t protest at Kallus’ insistence on formality, though it’s unusual at this point. Over the years, “Captain” and “General” had simply become “Hera,” but perhaps she is sharing the sense of finality that’s overtaken Kallus. “See you soon.”

The feed cuts out, and Kallus guides the ship off the ground and into the air. 

“So,  _ Commander,”  _ Zeb teases, leaning back in his seat, “what are the results of your search?”

Alexsandr remains silent while they leave the atmosphere, but Zeb allows him the time to consider his answer.

“Insignificant,” he declares finally, punching in the hyperspace coordinates. “Given that you already seem to have someplace in mind and I cannot find a single system that would satisfy us both.”

He punctuates his sentence by pushing the throttle, sending the shuttle into hyperspace. Zeb waits for his partner to elaborate, but instead, Alexsandr shifts, reaching behind him for his cane. Zeb stands, passing Kallus the intricately carved piece of wood, then offers his hand to Kallus. Minding his bad leg, Kallus raises slowly, then accepts Zeb’s arm. Together, they make their way towards the back of the ship.

They settle in next to each other, enjoying the quieted hum of the engine and the moment of peace, away from everyone else in the Rebellion. Hera had agreed to give them a smaller diplomatic mission, as it was one of the few things standing between the men and their retirement. Kallus was well-suited to it, having given up fighting after Endor (and the worsening pain in his bad leg), and was elected to accompany him for protection, in the unlikely event of high tensions and blasterfire.

“You think I have someplace in mind,” Zeb says. It’s not a question, and Kallus takes his hand before answering.

“I think you would have a better idea of home than I ever would.”

Zeb gives a surprised laugh. “I’ve lived on a ship most of my life, at this point.” He sighs, turning to look at Alexsandr. “My ideas of family and home have changed, Kal. Since Lasan… it’s been the Spectres and the  _ Ghost,  _ for me.” Zeb admits, placing his arm between his head and the wall and leaning back. “I never needed anything else.” He nudges Kallus with his free elbow. “‘Till you came along and changed all that.”

Kallus grins at him, a glint of humor sparkling in his eyes. But then, it disappears as quickly as it came, and his features harden and sober. Zeb’s nagging feeling returns, and he wraps an arm around his beloved, drawing him even closer. Kallus relaxes into the embrace, and his eyes close. Zeb waits another moment, and Kallus takes a deep inhale before opening his eyes.

“I’ve never really had a home,” Kallus says suddenly, straightening. “Not since I was very young.” He looks at Zeb briefly, almost sheepish. “I’ve just floated around from Imperial base to base, going wherever I needed.”

“You’ve had the  _ Ghost,”  _ Zeb says pointed, and Kallus nods. “Like me.”

“Even that was hardly permanent. It was… it  _ is  _ home, but it seemed so… temporary. Hera would need it somewhere, and we’d stay at wherever the Rebellion needed us. I never expected to spend the remainder of my life on Hera’s ship, at any rate.”

“So where did you expect to end up?”

Kallus laughs- it’s something closer to a scoff, and Zeb’s heart slows at the bitter sound.

“I don’t  _ know.”  _ There’s no small amount of frustration behind the words, but Zeb knows it’s not aimed at him. “I didn’t- I didn’t expect anything.” He swallows, hard, and when he speaks again, his voice is quiet, nearly timid. “I didn’t expect to be here. Alive, I mean.

“I never expected to live this long,” Kallus breathes, glancing at Zeb. His partner goes very still beside him, but Alexsandr continues after Zeb squeezes his hand. “With the Empire- I never expected to go to war. I never expected to be anything other than Agent Kallus, ISB. I planned to die as one of them, on some mission, or alone after a lifetime of obeying their cause. Even when my allegiance changed-” Kallus shakes his head. “Even then, I could never see a life of peace, after the Empire. I was confident that the Rebels would win-” Kallus’ voice trembles, and Zeb thinks of all the nights Alexsandr stayed awake, too anxious to sleep as he poured over mission reports. Zeb remembers how, after Scarif and Yavin, his partner barely ate or slept, fraught with nerves even after the Death Star blew, how Alexsandr never explicitly stated his belief that the Rebellion would succeed until the first night of victory on Endor.

“Right,” Zeb says, shifting closer to his partner. Alex inhales slowly.

“I simply didn’t think I would be a part of it. Not that I wouldn’t survive, even, I just- no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t picture it. I couldn’t see myself on the other side.”

“But you did,” Zeb says, a little gruffly. Kallus nods wordlessly and rests his head on Zeb’s shoulder.

“I did.”

“And now you have a family.”

“I do, Garazeb.” The lingering sorrow on Kallus’ face melts when Zeb smiles down at him. Zeb cups Alexsandr’s jaw, then leans in for a kiss, chaste but lingering. When they part, a low chuckle escapes Zeb- a light blush has spread across the man’s cheeks. Alexsandr rolls his eyes, knowing the observation his partner has just made, then ducks his head, nestling into Zeb’s shoulder. Zeb wraps his arms around his beloved, and there they stay for a long while

**Author's Note:**

> There is no business in the Outer Rim. There is, however, Lira San.


End file.
